Untitled
by bluchampaegne
Summary: She relied on her ability to control her emotions. DON/OC --- Author's Note Up


**Untitled **

She drew in the frosty air through clenched teeth and let it slowly dissipate back to the atmosphere. Sophia Windsor never got nervous, so why was she feeling like throwing up the little that she had for breakfast, and dinner for that matter.

Her gut told her something was going to go horribly wrong, that's what.

Her whole being was dependent on being calm, cool, and controlled in every situation. She thrived on it. Clark, her partner, and their supervisors had banked on her ability to stay in control of her emotions. That was why she was strutting her way through the dungy warehouse in the outskirts of Los Angeles, California. Alone. Without back – up.

It was unusually windy in the spacious confines, leaving her to deal with the gooseflesh that accompanied the chill. Damn physiological reactions to environmental changes, she didn't need another distraction. She was nervous as it is, and looking even a fraction of scared in front of these men meant her life.

The ominous figure of Richard Deline stood before her, his beady little slits eye her from head to toe. Every girl likes to think they make men stare in awe but if it were that Mr. Deline were the one to do the staring, she'd rather look like a gargoyle in a burlap sack.

"Punctual as usual, Evelyn." He insisted on calling her by "first name".

"We make it a point not to piss our clients off by being late, Mr. Deline." She said coolly. His laugh is boisterous; the sound bounces off the walls. It creates an annoying echo which eerily reminds her of those Batman movies where Joker laughs like a maniac. Yeah, not a great visual when in reality she was surrounded by maniacs who packed heat.

"Shall we get down to business?"

Deline sneers and nods his ascent, "Women like you are made for this business, Evelyn. Cold heartless bitches.", he says in a booming voice, "Beautiful bitches."

She busies herself with her laptop, tapping in the appropriate commands, anything to stop her from putting a bullet to his chest. She would have been shot in the head a second later, but it would have been worth it.

Almost eight months of this, she was more than getting sick of it. The leering, the name calling, the sexist comments, she'd endured enough to last her a lifetime. Clark had warned her that this assignment could take more than what the FBI assessed. Three months they had said. Well, she'd come to find out that was a load of bullshit.

She missed her friends, her dog, she even missed her damn office and all the paperwork.

"Everything seems to be in order. Always nice doing business with you, Ms. Berkley.", Deline tipped his head and before she could protest he swiftly grasped her hand and placed his lips on her skin.

Would he find it offensive if she barfed on his Armani suit?

She wouldn't get the chance.

"FBI!"

That was the last intelligible sound she could discern before gun discharges from all sides all but deafened her. Deline's men were strategically placed at all corners of the warehouse if ever the need to be strategically placed were to arrive. Much like this scenario they were playing out.

Sophie dived for the steel table where her laptop sat, protecting it from further damage. Too much data was in there, and if she didn't keep up the ruse of being on the other side of the law, it would set off a chain reaction that would start with her death.

She didn't want to die. Not until she could kill the FBI agents storming the warehouse.

To her far right, she could see Deline's goons dragging his bloodied body out towards their helicopter. They would get away, and she should too but there was problem with that. She didn't have any back-up.

Well, she did have back-up… in New York.

The shooting stopped and the shouting started again.

"FBI! Don't move!"

She exhaled slowly, realizing for the first time that she might have just sprained her wrist, what with her swan dive for the computer.

Eight months of undercover work down the drain. It just wasn't plausible, how was she going to explain how she escaped a whole team of agents by herself. They knew she was good, and she was to a certain extent. She wasn't that great though.

Maybe Sydney Bristow might cope, but she's black ops CIA. She was just a lowly FBI agent whose work was just shot to hell by the damn people she was working for anyway. Besides, she didn't live in a TV show.

"FBI! Hands where I can see'em", Sophie looks up to the face of a young African American agent.

"I'm just going to stand up.", she says calmly. She was covered with dirt and dust, and her make-up was less than perfect, she needed to keep cool. Anything to keep the little dignity she had. She would not blow her top. That or cry her eyes out.

David Sinclaire rounds the corner cautiously, he knew there was somebody behind the overturned table. He'd seen her dive for the laptop and then duck for cover amidst the gunfire "No, you're going to put that down and –"

His words are cut off by the woman's next actions, she rolls her eyes and stands up anyway, the grip he had on his gun tightened considerably, "I SAID DON'T MOVE!"

"What if I don't want to?", she says calmly. For a woman cornered and facing arrest she was acting pretty weird. She was clearly irritated as hell, she squints her eyes ever so slightly.

She was beautiful, and David knew he shouldn't be dwelling on thoughts of the sort.

"There's nowhere to go, lady. Just cooperate." he said just as he saw Don round the corner, his gun drawn and aimed towards the girl. She still had laptop gripped with one hand.

"No where to go, lady.", Don said levelly.

Everything that happened afterwards would leave his mouth hung open.

The girl whipped around to face Don, and the minute she did, he didn't think it was possible to turn pale that fast. Don's jaw went slack for a moment before he snapped it closed, he looked like he saw a ghost.

It didn't take a genius to deduct that Don knew her.

Don couldn't believe it. It couldn't be. It shouldn't.

But he wouldn't make a mistake.

"Are you going to shoot me?", she said evenly. Always the pro but even she can't cover up every emotion. He saw the surprise flicker in her eyes before it was covered up by from what he could tell was anger.

"I don't know. Do I have to?", she made him feel like a rookie agent on his first confrontation.

She let out a chuckle and spread her arms wide, "Might as well. You just ruined eight months of undercover work. Thanks a lot, Agent Eppes."

Fuck.

Continue? Feedback?

Much love.


End file.
